When I was a child I'd stare into space - one lonely young girl, a lost look on her face. I would ask the stars questions that everyone does: Who else looks up? Does He peek from above? They'd hover there silent, still casting their glow and I felt it was bigger than I'd ever know.

Jump ahead ten years; I'm still looking up. The few answers I have aren't enough. I've made many memories - unreal as they seemed - better than my little girl could ever have dreamed. I finally met my friend from the other side of the sky and I don't have to wonder where I'll go when I die, but all these things I was taught believe of truth, love, right and wrong have me feeling deceived. And as it turns out, this "Golden Rule" is only worth something when being done unto by you.

I stand on the pavement alone in the dark, cradling the pieces of my broken heart. They float on my tears, a sign of the cost paid by the dreamer for innocence lost.

Captured At:1934

The evening tricks me with feelings of Home. I no longer know when I am. Now, later, yesterday, tomorrow... what is time anyway?

In the distance sounds come from the court, each familiar pop an ace through my chest. Have another serving love. A play on words, a play on me, another hit because I haven't fallen.

Tripped, perhaps, still pressing on. Torn and limping, not wanting to walk. How about laying down to sleep a while?

One vote for the couch, one for a pew, one for six feet under. Disappointment to all comes with me in bed as this span of awake surrenders.

Captured At:2218

The alarm goes off at 5am every morning without fail. It is silenced within twenty seconds. I used to reset it so that when I fell back to sleep I would be alerted of a different hour. I don't bother with that anymore.

I have learned the colors of the morning. When my eyes open I know if I can close them again.

The 5 o'clock hour is black.
The 6 o'clock hour is dim.
The 7 o'clock hour is gold.
The early 8 o'clock hour is yellow/white.
The late 8 o'clock and beyond are the glow of a computer screen composing an email announcing a late arrival.

The remainder of the day passes without notice. Better get to it.

Captured At: 801

Driving home from work this evening the notes of Buffett's "Twelve Volt Man" passed through my ears. Those unfamiliar with the song title may notice it closely resembles the screen name "Twelve Volt Bec", which is currently allowing the world to ignore communication opportunities with my desktop. Years ago I had a miscellaneous section on my website that explained my take on the song and why I had chosen it in creating what was then a new name for myself.

My best guess is that the page was lost in a crash as much of my work has been, destined to survive only as a vague memory in my mind. I have considered walking through my interpretation of the song a number of times since then. Tonight I have finally decided to do so.

Overall I have always heard "Twelve Volt Man" as a tale of knowing who you are even when that's not popular. I see in the lyrics a conflict "me" versus "the world", and a desire to be seen for what one really is.

I never got a grip on penmanship
Could never make the small l's flow
Seldom found the trick to arith-a-metic
Three plus two be faux pas

The first part of the song looks into the past, specifically toward some of the more formative years in a person's life. Here we see the speaker admitting their shortcomings. These things that should have been simple - things the world placed emphasis on - just weren't right.

But ask for some palm trees
Or tales from the south seas
And I just might turn your head

To counteract this list of failures the speaker supplies what they can do. The last line is begging for a chance to show that off. They're suggesting that with the right opportunity somebody might notice them.

I never had the clout to knock one out
But hitting was the name of my game

Again, we see the speaker trying something they know isn't right for them.

Standing on third as the coaches conferred
Close to my first claim to fame

Just give me the steal sign
And I'll make home plate mine
And I just might turn some heads

What happens next has been placed in the hands of somebody else. The speaker will act on what they're told even though they know what they want. They see an opportunity to show what they're capable of if only allowed to go for it. Maybe the kid can't hit, but he can run. Surely that will get a reaction.

Sometimes I may get a little drastic
Sometimes I just let my feelings show
Sometimes I may be a bit sarcastic
Most times that's the way the story goes

Enter the present. These clashes of self verses life/the world have left the speaker frustrated, their reactions inconsistent. One moment they'll come up with wild "solutions". Another they'll vent openly and tell it like it is. Another they'll hide behind defense mechanisms. In all of these responses nothing changes and they'll do the same the next time they're ready to tell off everyone around them.

Now I know this Joe down in Mexico
He went there to work on his tan
For years he's been plugged into blenders and songs
They call him the Twelve Volt man

He don't need no charge card
Just give him a Die Hard
And he'll make sparks fly 'round your head

We're then provided with the short story of somebody else's life. The idea of going to "work on his tan" suggests that this "Joe" was only supposed to make a short trip before returning to the life he left. We learn, however, that he never went back; that instead he's been gone for years indulging in some of life's simple pleasures. A large supply of money, as represented by the charge card, is incapable of bringing him the same happiness as his little battery powered radio. The way he lives and the chances he has taken in deviating from the world's course have inspired the speaker. It has stirred their imagination to consider the possibilities that exist in their own life if they'll stop waiting for everyone else to wave them on to the next base.

Oh Just ask for some palm trees
Or tales from the south seas
And I'll make sparks fly 'round your head

The speaker has returned to where they began with renewed confidence. No longer timidly asking the world for a chance, they're daring it to take them on. They don't care what it has to say because they know they've got something incredible in them. They have moved beyond hoping to turn heads. What they can do is more powerful and whether that is seen or not is of no consequence. The speaker knows what they're to do. Forget the world; they're going their own way.

Captured At:2121

Hands of Madness

Standing on the porch
For the setting of the sun
Trying to clean the blasted thing off
With a yellow mop and a water gun
The neighbours look at me like I'm crazy
They wouldn't understand
There's no such thing as madness
When the world has slipped your hands

Someone should be coming soon
Or so the rooms feel that way
Perhaps the famed men in their trusty white coats
To save me from these Cinderella games
I know they think I'm crazy
Though they pretend to understand
They'll tell me it's not madness
To teach me the world is still in my hands

Guilty voices say that I'm lonely
As they tell me that they care
But could they ever claim the emotion as mine
If they'd felt theirs enough and not left me here
I know I'm not crazy
They could never understand
Perhaps it was a bit of madness
When I put my whole world in their hands

There's a lesson in this somewhere
But what I just don't know
Maybe life or faith or trust or love
Or some giant snobby "I told you so"
Maybe I am crazy
I won't act like I understand
I guess the whole thing's madness
No matter who has the world in their hands

Captured At:2054

On February 1, 2003 the loss of Columbia became another moment in history that decades from now people will be saying, "I remember where I was when..." about. I have to admit that after moving to Florida I would watch the launches, but I never gave thought to what happened after. I was aware enough of the dangers to know I would never blast off myself, but space catastrophes were a Hollywood fabrication. History showed that if they got you up there alive they would also get you home.

Or so we thought.

Sadly, my memory of that day paints a classic picture of indifference. I was in the shower completely unaware that the shuttle was even supposed to return when my sister knocked on the bathroom door and told me we had lost it. The news didn't register at first. Seeing the images on TV slowly made it slightly more real. Seven people had lost their lives. I wondered if they had known their end was coming and hoped to God they hadn't.

Four months later I had the privilege of walking through the reconstruction hangar. I can visualize how the pieces were laid out around the large room, a silent crowd snaking through it on a path marked off with thin yellow rope. I remember the tears I fought back reading cards sent to NASA from schools across the country and the final wishes of children sent to parents who were no longer heroes to only them.

Nearly eight months after the tragedy I had the honor of addressing some of those children, their surviving parents, and members of an agency still mourning as they sat among a crowd of my peers and superiors. The kindness and encouragement I received that afternoon from people who had been through infinitely more than my empathy could ever move within me will also not be forgotten.

At that time working for the space program wasn't even a dream; it was something other people did. Behind my disbelief I know I'm privileged to now be part of it. I am here because that ship fell out of the sky. I think sometimes my frustration with work is that I feel a responsibility I don't believe I'm living up to and I'm desperately wishing I knew where my place was to make a real difference.

Watching Discovery shoot into the heavens two weeks ago carried a sense of joy and excitement, but also one of sadness. In the days leading up to launch I prayed often for the families I had met and wished I could tell them that I still remember. Using the same rationale I had heard passed around for days I made no attempt to watch the landing. "It will be dark. There's nothing to see." Honestly, I was scared. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle living with the memory of waiting for a vehicle that didn't return.

Yesterday morning when landing was supposed to take place I was jerked from slumber just after 4:45 by two loud noises I can still hear echoing inside my head. Moments earlier I was in the middle of a dream where I had woken up late on the day of the shuttle's return and was watching TV for an update. It was daylight and the camera was on people watching from outside the VAB. The ship flew overhead igniting cheers from the spectators, then disappeared out of sight producing a loud noise that changed their expressions from joy to horror. The shuttle had crashed just short of the runway.

Today as I rounded my first corner driving to work I heard on the radio that Discovery was safely home. I couldn't let myself believe it until I finally saw live images of the shuttle resting on California tarmac.

During the press conference after landing our leadership was asked if they had thought of Columbia at all and if Americans could have confidence in the space program. I hear these things and I'm not sure the public understands. In many ways this mission was for Columbia, and every one after, whether made in a shuttle, CEV or vehicle not yet imagined, will be as well. An event like that doesn't leave our hearts and minds once it no longer makes the papers. We don't forget these things. We can't; and in remembering we learn from them. We take every flight, every project, every experiment - good or bad - and use the knowledge they give us in the best way humanly possible. To paraphrase Mike Griffin today, what we do is not easy, but we can be trusted to do our best to make it easier.

The emotions I experienced this morning are many. I felt joy that the shuttle had come back and sadness for the families of the last flight who never got to welcome their loved ones home. I found myself overflowing with respect and admiration for this crew and the challenge they rose to in being the first to ride the torch back into orbit. I imagined looking upon the earth from space and the sense of peace that would swim through my body. I listened to our Administrator with awe at his knowledge, confidence in his leadership, hope in our mission, and pride in the agency I work for.

Today we took another step. We have another successful mission behind us, but we have to keep walking because there are infinitely more ahead. Much like the universe itself, the desire fueling our journey to explore and understand it has no end.

Captured At:1300

Sometime last week I got a phone call from a well intentioned friend hoping to blow away a couple of my recent clouds. "I know you're looking for meaning," they said, "but maybe there isn't one. Maybe it just is."

The concept of something "just being" is not new to me, and is one I have been slowly working on my acceptance of. For a questioning mind driven by a desire to understand anything that strikes them this is a terribly daunting task. My struggle to do so, however, was not why the suggestion was so poorly received. Given the current state of things an answer of "it just is" happens to be the worst possible.

There was nothing kind or tactful in my response as I yelled that the last thing a person wants to hear is that their life has no meaning; that there's no reason whatsoever for an existence they fight through every moment there are lights in the sky. Needless to say, things went drastically downhill from there. I have yet to determine how telling a person they have no purpose or value is supposed to provide them with any hope and encouragement to keep moving forward.

Before any comments are made regarding a lack of movement on my part I will fully acknowledge the fact that my engine has stalled. It appears my expectations of both the road and the vehicle were too high. In addition, this failure occurred on what has become the longest night of the year along a back road in the middle of nowhere.

For those who require less abstraction in the language to grasp a concept I will provide a practical example. In a recent meeting regarding my future in a career sense I was asked what I want to do. This is a terrible question as I simply do not know. My response was that it's difficult to say what I want to do when I don't know what I can do.

The statement I got back led me to believe that my use of words had once again failed me. "Can" had nothing to do with ability or permission and everything to do with possibility. Enter the darkness and lack of direction. How do you claim interest in something that you don't know exists?

It was suggested that I instead look at what I haven't done. I find fault in this theory because at my age that list is so large I could spend the rest of my life trying to create it and never cross off a single thing. I also suspect the items appearing on it would be of a "one time" nature and not yield anything long term to create a career from.

When I went to college I had a vague idea of what I thought I wanted to do and hoped I would learn about the specifics enough to narrow my focus. This did not happen and, as a result, I took a job doing something that really isn't right for me. From friends to teachers to the very man I was hired by, everybody knows it.

One of the biggest problems is that nobody can offer any suggestion as to what I should be doing instead. They say I'm good at what I do, yet they can't tell me what that is. They have full confidence in my abilities and little doubt that I'll succeed, but they have no idea where those will be applied and how it will happen.

I was also asked in the aforementioned meeting what I bring to the table and why somebody would want me working for them. My initial thought - which I didn't toss out - was that I have no idea, but people seem to want me anyway. I didn't tell this man that I was specifically searched out and actively recruited by the agency. I didn't tell him that I had another group trying to steal me and two others that essentially offered me jobs with them after one day of ATP diverse work. In my opinion I have done nothing to warrant that sort of attention, but clearly it's not mine that matters. As another friend put it, people see something in me. I have to learn to accept that.

If I'm honest, I see it too. I found myself driving down the road the other day listening to the words, "Some make the world go round, others watch it turn" and all I could say was, "I wasn't supposed to be an oyster, damn it."

Maybe I wasn't supposed to be, but clearly that's what I have become. I have no direction or guidance anywhere. I see no value in anything I'm doing in my life now and, drawing from history, I'm having a terrible time seeing how anything I could do would make a difference. Perhaps my reaction on the phone was too harsh. It appears my friend was right in saying my life is without meaning.

So why am I still here?

Captured At:1027

I continue to maintain that naps are good for you. Somewhere after waking up from the one I took post-work I decided a trip to the mailbox was in order. Bespectacled and still wearing pajamas I padded my bare feet around the complex with glass of water in hand to see what new garbage I would be tossing away immediately.

Strange as it sounds, almost everything in there was for Milo. I have decided somebody needs to go beat the Mazda people up as the guys who normally work on my car found no basis for the outrageous list of problems they cited when I had the battery replaced last month. I also don't appreciate that I have landed on their stupid mailing list.

Milo has asked me to report his joy at finally being an official Florida resident. The other cars were starting to tease him that the paper tag would never be replaced and he's very happy that they have been proven wrong. Naturally he tried to coax me into letting him out to show it off, but he's not very good at convincing me of things when I'm not behind the wheel. His tendency then is to not ask and take over completely instead. Even when I scold him for it his spirits remain high. He's only had the tag for about twenty minutes (he wanted it attached as soon as he saw the envelope on my walk home), but something tells me the novelty has a while to go before it wears off.

Captured At:2128

The concept of deserving is one larger than I'm mentally able to tackle at the moment, yet one I'd like to toss out for consideration to those with some extra analytical space between their ears. It really is interesting. Brain permitting, I'll try some other time.

Captured At:1350

"Things are gonna work somehow
If I just sleep another hour..."

:: blinks slowly a few times ::

Where did Friday night go? And why do I feel as if I've been beaten up?

Forget the unanswered questions. Let's see what I do know.

Yesterday morning was a really nice one for a launch. I watched the Atlas V go up from one of the camera tracking sites and followed it for about as long as I could see. One of the things that always gets me is the silence that accompanies the launches to a point. You can hear people cheering and clapping, and then woosh! comes a rumble that just gets louder and louder until they're drowned out completely. This rocket wasn't anywhere near the size of the Delta IV that I saw last December, but cool to watch just the same. Last I knew there's another Delta going up Monday night; not sure if I'll stick around for it or not.

In talking to my brother yesterday afternoon I claimed it an "Office Space" day. Our Sys Admin came in saying he was going on a trip this weekend and decided he was going to leave early. My response, "Okay, whatever works." I then followed it up saying how easy it was when I was the only one here. He laughed. I also decided my cubicle was no longer acceptable as it was, found some tools, and began attacking my desk. What was one piece is now three, two of which are still in the cube and one has been stuffed in a corner somewhere. I've been feeling pretty weak these days, so pushing around large objects by myself was a major accomplishment. It's also, I suspect, the reason my shoulders hurt so much this morning. My co-workers are going to be very confused when they return on Monday.

Not long after two, just before I was going to leave, I somehow walked into the middle of a discussion on the truth of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Run a search on him if you don't know what that is; I'm not going into it here. The conversation spawned by this ran at least an hour in the time I was there and I have no idea how long it had been going on before I arrived. How do I get myself into these things?

Another thing I do know is that today marks one year of living in this apartment. Well, sort of. I was supposed to move, but this little thing called Charley put a damper on that. All I managed to do was sign my lease, move my TV and laptop so the cable guy could get me set up when he arrived, and freak out Liz when I got home too close to an incoming storm for her comfort.

At that time nobody knew where this place was. There was something nice about the world not being able to get to me as I sat in what was essentially an empty room. I was excited to know I had the sort of freedom I had always wanted. I could come and go as I pleased and didn't have to answer to anybody. It was going to be great.

I remember being almost the only car flying down US1 on the drive back to Liz and TJ's. Rain was coming in through my window as I watched waves on the river and I felt so alive in that moment that the only thing I could say to my sister when I arrived was "Nature is awesome!" She was less than impressed.

A lot changes in a year. Most people still don't know where I am, but there's no comfort in the walls. Over the last several months I have watched many things hit the one year mark. There isn't a single one that's anywhere near to where it was. Truth be told, many of them aren't there at all.

The color of the morning is changing, telling me that whatever clouds obstructed the sun when I first woke up have been overcome. I, on the other hand, only seem to get foggier. Maybe I can squeeze a bit more rest from these half open eyes.

Captured At: 732

"So I'm layin' there, right, and this big monster's like gonna eat me or somethin'. I dunno. Next thing I know he's gone and there's this tower. And I'm climbin' up the side of it which is just all wrong. I mean, the princess is supposed to be /in/ the tower, not going up the side of it, you know? And these sections of four or five keep breaking off below me as I go up. Like not falling off, but like I'm passing 'em or somethin'. And somebody's yelling at me from the ground. Looks sorta like Snow White I think, but all I can see is this tower so it coulda been anybody. I don't know what she's sayin', but she's makin' me real angry. And I start yellin' back at her, right, say she's just another stupid fairy tale and doesn't know anything and she's gettin' pissed. I don't care, right, 'cause I'm real mad at her. And I keep climbin' and climbin', sorta like walking up the side, but not really. I don't even know why I'm doin' it, but I am. And I can see this window at the top, you know? It's open, but I can't see nothin' in it...not close enough or somethin' And then, like, that's all I remember. I wasn't quite dreamin', but it's gotta mean somethin', ya know? Whaddaya think?"

"Oh, that's easy."

"Really?!"

"Yeah, sure. I think that room a yours at the top better be padded."

Captured At:1749

The Fiot Strikes Again

It appears my brother has been assigned the task of doing the edit of our family vacation video from May. I would like to submit the following as evidence of why I'm concerned about this:

Bryan: ok i just saw the best vid
Me: Of what?
Bryan: you, with one of the chipmunks, with the caption "becs new man, how small and cute they are"
Me: Hey!
Me: Who captioned that?
Bryan: no one did
Bryan: .............yet

Yeah, he loves me.

Captured At:1200

Sad but True

I don't remember how I got into the conversation this evening, but I was establishing with a co-worker the fact that if I were to disappear - which I believe was defined as "die or skip the country" - it would take at least a week before anyone suspected something might be up. He pointed out that they would notice there, but I think that's only because they would realize what little work I do wasn't being completed.

Though I was joking about it, I have to admit it wasn't the most uplifting thought in the world. This was made more difficult by the fact that it actually is the truth. I live alone, I don't have friends, and my family is far away and busy. My co-workers are the only people I see or engage in any dialogue with on a regular basis. On the rare occasion anyone outside of them randomly shows up they don't think anything of it if I don't respond. I could seriously end up being one of those people found dead in their home days after the fact.

The only conclusion I can make from this is that I must have really screwed up along the way despite my best efforts. Using that observation only worsens an already terrible outlook for the future. Congratulations, Rebecca. This is your life.

Captured At:2041

"With every crime, you bought each line"

Yesterday, for reasons unknown to me, I nearly posted lyrics to Tracy Chapman's "Telling Stories". It's a song I always liked the feel of, but I never thought it quite explained her closing remarks of "sometimes a lie is the best thing". Tonight's title is borrowed from "Off the Hook", which also made a random appearance in my head. While more upbeat than the other tune it covers a theme of a much more serious nature; there's no way BNL is singing of anything other than adultery.

Yes, it would appear the world of truth and lies has once again made its way front and center in my mind.

I wonder what it is that initially teaches us to hide the truth. Looking at classical scenarios children often lie to protect themselves from punishment - no they didn't hit their brother or no they didn't take that second cookie after they were told they couldn't have it. As we get older the reasons, either realized or subconscious, become infinitely more complex. Things like manipulation and perceived protection of others add themselves to those early motives of self-preservation.

Do you remember the first time you didn't tell the truth? I know I don't. I can't say I know the first time I found I had been lied to either. You would think a moment like that - the one where you first knew you couldn't take the world at face value - would be significant enough to remember. What if it had been? Do you think you would have done things in your life any differently?

The word "truth" is simple. The concept behind it can be rather difficult. In many cases and for many people truth is often equated with fact. Despite lost lessons of logic in high school math class, however, not everything true can be proven. To make matters worse, what clearly exists as truth to one person may not be enough for another and, as if that weren't bad enough, truth can change.

I'm not going to pretend I have never lied, but on the whole I would like to believe I am an honest person. I don't like lying or being lied to, but what I dislike most is knowing somebody isn't being told the truth and not being able to do anything about it. I have also found myself in situations where I knew somebody was being lied to, but didn't know who. Those are, perhaps, the worst.

Part of what complicates this cycle of truth and lies is the fact that everyone says they want the truth, but many can't handle it when they receive it. Knowledge of this serves as a frequent rationalization for not providing the full story. As Mark Twain once said, "No man is straitly honest to any but himself and God". Granted I'd argue that most people aren't even honest with themselves, but that's a whole other issue.

I would like to say I have some conclusion to all of this, but the wheels continue to spin on something years of pondering still haven't generated a satisfactory resolution for. Perhaps you could say that for as many answers as I know I need, I'd also like the truth on truth itself.

Captured At:2035

Within the music I listen to I often find lines that strike me for one reason or another regardless of whether or not my mind has attached significance to the song. For years one of these lyrics has been I can see the day when my hair's full of grey, and I finally disappear. The mental image that generally accompanies this is very striking.

There are a few touches of grey hidden within my varicolored hair, but by most estimates the day the good Lord tells me it's time to go is a long way off. I look toward that moment knowing it's coming, but unable to actually imagine it. I have never done well with the idea that sand is constantly flowing through the hourglass that is my life.

What do I do between now and then? Will I feel my time here has been worthwhile when I get there?

My mother made a comment the other day that her kids are the best thing she has done in her life. I couldn't help but wonder if every parent feels this way. Looking at my own life I cannot identify anything that I believe to have been the best. I have accomplished much by many people's standards, but it means nothing to me. I don't believe I have done a single thing of any real significance, but I know there's something I'm supposed to do. That sense has been with me most of my life and, unfortunately, brings a lot of difficulty with it. It's further aggravated by the fact that the specifics have yet to be revealed. For now I suppose all I can do is wait, wander, and maybe snap a picture or two along the way.

Captured At:2255

"Ha lala la la la life goes full circle"

"I need someone to be my friend. Someone who won't run away."

The second half of the four PM hour finds me alone in the office once again. Under busier circumstances I would be thriving in this environment, working tirelessly into the evening hours without giving the clock a second look. Though many would say I have strong abilities when it comes to working with others, I'm often at my best under solitary conditions that allow me to charge forward at my leisure.

In a variety of ways I have always been independent. I have also always placed a high value on freedom. I like not having to answer to anybody. I like being able to come and go as I please and not be concerned that somebody is sitting home frantic with worry that I have apparently disappeared. This brand of flippancy could be viewed as some sort of red flag for any number of things, but on the reverse I'm also intensely dedicated and stupidly loyal.

I have yet to determine what it is that caused me to place such a high value on independence and self-sufficiency. In every place imaginable I always saw things as me here and everyone else over there. Life as an island suited me well, and having experienced that made me much quicker to help others who seemed to be headed toward the same fate. I often do everything I can to make sure somebody knows I'm there and, on the whole, it seems to work. It appears my life has become one of floating from one person to the next, watching the trouble set in and sticking around until it has passed and I'm no longer needed.

Last night found me walking the beach as the twilight set in. I left the music at home and wandered the stretch between two Eau Gallie parks alone, leaving just before it was too dark to see. Everyone I had tried to talk to when I got home from work either didn't respond or had other things to move on to. As my bare feet padded south over mostly solid sand I remembered a friend reminding me of God's conclusion that it's not good for man to be alone. "Why then," I wondered, "does he keep leaving me that way?"

Aside from being a reasonable question it's also very telling of the fact that little miss "I don't need anybody" knows she was wrong.

Can I get by on my own? Yes, I'm very sure I can. Unfortunately the picture which accompanies that isn't particularly happy. A terrific illustration of where I often feel I am and the fate I see ahead of me can be found in A Salty Piece of Land.

Rebecca, party of one, your table is ready.

No, I'm not cursing God and crying out into a cruel universe because I'm drawing islands on the back of menus by myself. True the natural course of life has something to do with it, but the reason I'm sitting alone is me.

An early example of this comes from third grade. I was angry one day because my mom wouldn't let me bring Elliott to school and that put me in a bad mood. Seeing I was quiet and withdrawn a group of friends tried to catch me on the playground. The ring leader at the time was on a cheerleading kick so they'd made up this little chant in an attempt to cheer me up. They gathered in front of me and began "Rebecca is a good friend..." Those are the only words I can remember because I immediately covered my ears and ran as far in the opposite direction as I could get.

Yes, I do need to learn how to let people love me. Thank you for pointing that out.

I want to get this whole thing right. I want a relationship that doesn't feel strained and broken in half a dozen ways. I want a best friend/partner in crime who will come with me as I take on the world, knocking me down when I need it and making me stronger for having them at my side. I want a mentor who challenges and inspires me to achieve more than I thought was my best because they recognize the incredible potential shining in my eyes. I want to spend my life laughing with a man who sees the person I really am and adores her despite her mountains of flaws.

These things are all possible, but hard to come by. I understand now, and I'm ready to learn what it takes. What I need is the chance.

Captured At:1821

Catalyst

Over the course of my life there are a number of things I can remember being called. Some, such as obstinate, strong, or "cynical, jaded and pessimistic", attempted to categorize my nature. Others, like leader, friend, and even "el presidente", captured the essence of my roles and responsibilities. These words do a terrific job of describing how or what I am while entirely leaving out the more important question of who.

Among these labels and more, I seem to have stumbled upon another that has repeated itself with greater frequency than I would have expected. "You're the catalyst, not the problem. There's a big difference." This remark is not the first of its nature I have heard and displays another apparent paradox in my nature. A backwards-focused pack-rat with a slight Peter Pan complex and major issues when it comes to letting go actually motivates change? Impossible!

I won't pretend I understand it, but using the aforementioned focus it is very clear that I do make things happen. I would be lying if I said I didn't like it that way, though how much varies greatly depending on the situation. The problem is the wording. Let's look at one definition for a moment.

Catalyst (n): One that precipitates a process or event, especially without being involved in or changed by the consequences.

Precipitates is a great word and is used in the "to cause to happen, especially suddenly or prematurely" sense. The very usage of this word in the definition creates an issue. When I really start pushing for something it's usually because it is long overdue. Given my general approach to things it's also seldom sudden. I make my voice heard and allow time for things to work themselves out before I focus my efforts on making sure the right and necessary event takes place.

The next problem is in the second half of the definition - "especially without being involved in or changed by the consequences". I do not attempt to change things that are outside of my perceived scope of obligation or responsibility. If I'm trying to make something happen it's because I am involved, whether directly affected by the outcome or not. Also, for as much as we may not like to admit it, people are impressed upon by their experiences and what they have around them. I may not be sick myself, but caring for or living with a person who is ill is not without influence. I actually like the definition from chemistry better here. It says the catalyst drives the change "without being consumed in the process". Using that idea it's very clear this word does not accurately explain what I do.

On the surface, yes, I do change things. I realize there are areas where I have influence whether I intentionally wield it or not. None of this, however, is without consequence. Anyone who fails to realize that lacks a true concept of how I approach things and the responsibility I place on myself under these circumstances. As important as getting the change to happen is, the work doesn't stop there. I keep going, keep doing my part, and hope to God I haven't inadvertently screwed something up. You can't get farther from uninvolved and unaffected than that.

Captured At:1730

What I was treated to on two separate morning commutes this week:

Not bad for something taken from a moving vehicle.

Captured At:1834

This evening as I browsed the web I stumbled upon a site that randomly generates "inspirational ideas" designed to provide writers looking for subject matter with something to motivate them to action. As I clicked through and watched any number of random suggestions pop up the one that first caught my attention said something along the lines of, "If I could be somebody else I would be...."

My initial response to this was that I wouldn't choose to be somebody else if the option were presented. While lately I feel I'm about as much use to myself and others as a toad passing the days on an algae covered log, I'd stay there. Sure the lily pads at the other end of the pond look nicer with their smooth surfaces and accompanying flowers, but once I hop my way over to them the tears, holes, and discolorations I couldn't see from my previous location will come into view. One inescapable fact of life is that no matter how good things appear on the surface everybody has problems and secrets. Everybody struggles and hurts - sometimes more than we could ever realize - and everybody is shadowed by the ghosts of their past as they twist and contort to catch the reaction ball that is their future.

Uncertainty as to what evils I would be signing myself up for with this switch is not the only motivating factor behind the decision. Two other important ones are that I am aware how fortunate I have been during my life thus far and that, for the most part, I actually like who I am. My life and I are both far from perfect, but we could be so much worse. We're also constantly trying to get better.

The next thing triggered by this proposition took me down a completely different road to what is probably the best known question posed by a DMB song lyric - "Could I have been anyone other than me?"

How fantastic and potentially confusing of a question is that?

One school of thought would say yes, it is certainly possible that every one of us could have been somebody else; that exercising our free will shapes the people we become. If we had made different choices along the way the individual others know would potentially be drastically unlike the one they interact with now. Outside of the choices we make the circumstances in our lives also play a role. What if I had been the youngest child instead of the oldest? What if I had never left New York? How could I possibly be the same?

This is in direct contradiction with ideas like fate and destiny. Those theories would say that at any given time we are who we're supposed to be, and that we are no more able to change what we become than we're able to turn a churning sea completely placid. Regardless of what we do or how we try to run from it, the end result will be the same. I can take every safety precaution necessary, but if I'm supposed to die at 25 my waking moments on this earth will end before 2:57am on June's first set of double digits in 2007.

On the whole, pondering my life as another person seems irrelevant. Whether I know what it is or not I believe I have a purpose. I believe there is a reason for how and where I am. I also believe spending my time brainstorming who or what else I could be ignores those things. I'm not somebody else, I'm me. That's all there is to it.

Captured At: 111

"Deep in my heart I'm concealing
Things that I'm longing to say..."